That One Night
by lemondrizzlecake
Summary: ONESHOT Missing scenes from 3x05 #HugeIfTrue. The whole thing Lola had with Miles was messy, and neither of them probably understood it entirely. But it felt good, it felt so good! Something that feels this good can't be entirely bad… right?


**Disclaimer: I normally don't write sexy things. If you're looking for smutty details and lengthy descriptions... this is not the story for you xD**

 **I don't know how this one came about, really. I'm a Triles shipper at heart, but Mola... I don't know. It just struck a chord with me. And I really wanted to give Lola a great first time. Hope you enjoy the ride!**

 **A huge thank you to drizzletomyhurricane for supporting this fic from the very start, and for being a huge help throughout the writing process. Any mistakes are mine, and any good idea probably hers ;)**

 **Reviews mean the world, and I'd absolutely love to read your thoughts in the comments.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

THAT ONE NIGHT

...

The entire evening had been bizarre.

Lola hadn't had a girl-night with her BFFs in way too long. Seriously, it had been _months_. So, of course, this one had to be absolutely perfect, to make up for lost time. Lola had planned every little detail: she'd brought along avocados and honey and other goodies for homemade facemasks; she'd packed her massive-size make-up kit, the one with every single colour of eyeshadow recognisable by human eye, and brushed up on a few YouTube tutorials for looks she wanted to try on Frankie and Shay; and she had finally resurfaced from the depth of the freezer those three tubs of candy-cane ice cream she'd been saving for this very day. It was going to be a success.

Things had not been the smoothest with the three of them, lately. Grade 11 hadn't started on the best note, for sure. First, she and Shay had that massive argument over Tiny, for the entire class to see. To be fair, Lola had started that one. Sort of. But she hadn't meant anything by it, and the way it blew up, and especially the way Shay attacked her for it… let's say it wasn't nice, at all. They were past that, now, but even with that aside, things had hardly gone back to normal. Shay never had time to hang out anymore, focused as she was on sports, and school, and Tiny. And Frankie seemed completely obsessed by her relationship drama with Jonah. Tonight was supposed to be perfect, and exactly as it used to be: just them three girls, a pampering night, ice-cream and movies and lots of tears. Except, it didn't exactly go as planned.

First, there was that weird moment, when Miles had walked in the kitchen and mistaken her face-mask concoction for guacamole. It hadn't even been anything out of the ordinary, per se; they were just talking, and they had done plenty of it in the past weeks. Miles was maybe the only good thing to come out from her blowout with Shay, as it was in the aftermath of that they kind of met, that Miles went from being Frankie's cute older brother to someone Lola talked to. Since then they had spent plenty of time together, mostly alone. Still, tonight it felt different, somehow. Maybe it was how casually Miles seemed to suggest she ditched her best friends to go hang out in his room; maybe it was the weirdness of knowing that Frankie was just upstairs, and could potentially walk in any minute; or maybe it was just the silly pair of pink pyjamas with _panda_ faces printed on them she was wearing - something not even in her worst nightmare Miles should have ever seen her in. The moment passed, anyway, Miles went back to his room and the night went on.

But then, before Lola even had a chance to get back upstairs, in came half the school, as apparently the moment she turned around Frankie and Shay had invited their boyfriends (and, like, ten other people) to come along. And that hurt, man. Lola didn't want to be unnecessarily overdramatic, but knowing how long she'd been waiting for tonight, it made her wonder whether her friends actually wanted to spend time with her at all. Parties were fun, sure, but did they have to throw one on the one night they had to just be with each other? It felt a bit like they didn't care, or like Lola wasn't enough for a good night, anymore. Maybe she wasn't. Maybe they'd rather spend time with their boyfriends and all these random people. Zig and Grace had never been particularly nice to Lola, back when she was dating Tiny, and she really wasn't in a hurry to spend any more time with them. As for Esme… Lola had heard and seen enough to believe she wasn't missing out without her. What's even worse, all these people - seniors! - had just seen her in her childish pyjamas, and with mashed avocado on her face. This was never going to be the start of a good night, ever.

The rest went predictably bad. The game of 'Never Have I Ever' made Lola cave into her worst instincts, resulting in petty and vindictive tactics that really weren't a good look on her. Trying to prove that her relationship with Tiny had been important by diminishing Shay was low, Lola knew it, and Shay's hurt face made her feel bad more than good. And of course it escalated, with Esme daring Tiny to spend 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' with Lola. And while Lola might or might not have accepted just to prove a point to Shay... speaking to Tiny ended up being actually really great. No, it wasn't because Lola was still harbouring secret feelings for him; she didn't even like Tiny that way, anymore, and deep down ( _very_ deep down, let's admit it) she was happy for him and Shay, honest. She had just needed a bit of time to mourn her relationship, and to accept that what she had had with Tiny last year wasn't going to disappear or lose value only because it was over. Her mixed feelings about the whole situation had made her tiptoe around him all year for fear of hurting Shay, and she realised now she had missed out on the chance of staying friends, which was a pity. Tiny was a great guy, boyfriend or not. Even now, in that stupid closet, he helped Lola see that in fact there were people in her life who appreciated her. One, in particular…

...

And that, in short, is how Lola ended up outside Miles Hollingsworth's bedroom, shaking slightly as she tried to find the guts to knock on his door. Deep breath, in and out. He had invited her, hadn't he? Three. Two. One.

As the door cracked open, Miles's eyes left his notebook and immediately met hers - making her heart skip a beat in the process.

"Can I take you up on that offer? To hang out here?" she asked, standing awkwardly in his doorframe. She sounded almost timid - which really wasn't like herself, at all. It's just that if Miles rejected her now, or laughed about her, after the day she just had… she didn't know if she could take it.

But Miles just smiled his incredible smile, and Lola felt her legs turn into jelly in a way she really didn't think they should have.

...

They were sitting on his bed, right next to each other. Maybe a bit too close for comfort, but they _were_ reading lines from Miles's draft for a play, so Lola let it pass without overthinking it too much. Soon, lines morphed into comments, and comments into chatter.

"Thanks for ditching girls night to help," he said to her, earnest.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I got ditched," she replied, the stinging truth of that statement mitigated by his very presence.

It felt good, talking to Miles, always, and it didn't even matter what about. She felt like she could tell him anything, with no awkwardness, and no filter. Everything seemed so easy, with him - although it wasn't, and they both knew it. But it didn't matter, not when they were together. Not right now.

Miles's eyes were the most amazing thing Lola had ever seen, that not-quite-green, not-quite-brown unique shade they had, how they seemed to shine with a secret light as they landed on her. Miles didn't just look at her, no, he seemed to scan into the very depths of her soul, as if he were constantly looking for some sort of answer, and resolved to find it right inside her head. It was weird how it _wasn't_ weird, to be close like that, to stare at each other while wearing their souls on their sleeves. But it wasn't, or at least it'd never been, not the other times. Tonight, however, something seemed different, although she couldn't quite point her finger at exactly what.

Maybe it was just how bizarre the whole day had been, with Shay and Frankie acting out like they did; maybe it was the excitement wearing off from the game they played downstairs, or the little alcohol she had drunk; or maybe, who knows, it was just that weird moment with Miles in the kitchen, hours before. Whatever the reason, something had changed, in the spark in his eyes, in the electricity between them - she could clearly feel it. It excited her, and attracted her, but scared her a little at the same time.

Let's be clear, Lola was well aware that she had feelings for Miles; she had been aware of it for ages, pretty much since they started hanging out - and even before that, if she was perfectly honest. They connected, for real, and staring into his eyes like they were doing now made her feel all sorts of things she probably shouldn't feel. But Lola had also decided pretty much at the start that she wouldn't act on her feelings; she wouldn't push him, she wouldn't drag him into anything he didn't want. So, when Miles asked her, "Hey, do you want to play Hope?" she didn't reply with the squeal of excitement that resonated somewhere inside her. Instead, she took a deep breath, and forced herself to say, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Miles looked at her in that incredibly intense way he had, that way that made you forget your name, and the meaning of language, and how to put words one after the next in a way that made sense.

"And why is that?" he asked - and _god_ , his voice had never sounded so sexy, and enticing, and beautiful, in its deep, vibrating timbre.

"Because I like you?" she said, honest, "I tried not to, but I do... and I'm worried that if we spend too much time together we'll do something that'll end us both in trouble…"

"Like what?" he asked, a low whisper.

And then he leaned in, almost hesitant, and the next thing she knew he was kissing her. Miles Hollingsworth was _kissing_ her.

And the world, for a moment, stopped spinning.

"Are you sure you want this?" she asked - because she had to. She wasn't about to let him make a mistake on a whim, she wasn't about to let him get this close to her only to regret it in the morning. She had to be the stronger one, here, the voice of reason.

But Miles just nodded, quietly, staring right into her eyes. He kissed her again, and again, until the room around them, and reality, and all the reasons why they _shouldn't_ \- all of it started to dissolve, to smear at the edges. And there were just Lola and Miles, together, and it felt like they were the only two people left on Earth.

His lips were soft and warm, his hands caressing her softly, and she felt incredibly beautiful, for him, in that ridiculous pair of pink pyjamas she was wearing. She cupped his face in her hands, stroking his skin with her fingertips, tracing down his cheeks, his jawline, his neck, sneaking into the collar of his shirt to feel the heat of his body. She was at the same time thrilled and terrified by this new intimacy, so different from the friendly hugs and rarefied touches they had exchanged so far.

Soon his hands were finding their way underneath the cotton of her pyjama top, gently tracing her heated skin, the soft curve of her breasts. He stopped kissing her just long enough to pull her shirt above her head and take a moment to admire her, his beaming face telling her everything she ever needed to hear.

And it was in that precise moment, not before, that she realised they had reached the point of no return; it was about to happen, it was already happening, without her even noticing. In the span of a few heated moments, she had moved from the certainty that they would have never even kissed, to the awareness that they were about to have sex. And maybe nobody would believe this, but she honestly had never considered the eventuality. It always seemed so unrealistic, so absurd. And it was at that very instant - not before - that she decided she was okay with this; she was about to lose her virginity to Miles Hollingsworth, and she was okay with it. She would take this huge step into the unknown with him, because it felt right, and it was what she wanted.

Filled by a sudden urgency, she started unbuttoning his shirt, quickly pushing it off his shoulders and unceremoniously throwing it on the floor behind him. He seemed taken by the same urgency as he went back to kissing her, gently removing the rest of her clothes, leaving her naked underneath him. Following the rhythm of their sharp breaths, he started kissing every inch of her body, leaving a trace of soft pecks on her shoulders, her collarbones, her breasts, the soft skin of her belly and her hips, to then disappear between her legs. And, suddenly, she couldn't put together a coherent thought anymore.

Nothing Lola had ever experienced had ever felt this good. An intense heat seemed to overtake her entire being as her lower belly vibrated with pleasure. She felt out of breath, her body twisting in ways she didn't even know, her mind completely empty and her legs soft as jelly.

Tiny had touched her, before, but never like this. It had felt good when Tiny did it, but this was a whole other level of good. She felt absolutely out of breath, her chest moving sharply up and down, loud moans escaping her lips without her even noticing.

"Shhh!" Miles urged her, a warm hand covering her mouth. She could hear the smile in his whispering voice as he begged, "Please, Lo, my sister's going to hear us!"

And wow, his sister. Frankie, her very own best friend. It had been so easy to forget who Miles was, swoon by the heat of the moment. What was Lola even thinking, sleeping with him? This was, like, the worst infringement of any girl-code ever. Yet, all it took was for Miles to start kissing her neck again, his tongue teasing the back of her ear, his hands seemingly covering all of her at the same time…

"Lo, please, do you think you could be a little quieter? For me?" he cheekily whispered in her ear – so close that his voice seemed to come from within her own head. And Lola nodded into his cheek, her arms wrapped tight against his bare shoulders, Frankie nothing but a forgotten distant afterthought.

Miles's hands went back to touching every corner of Lola's body, and she just gave in to the feeling. Her mind felt like it was floating in a fluffy bubble, while all her senses were in complete override. It felt incredible.

"Should I get a condom?" he finally asked, out of breath.

"No need," she panted, "I'm on the pill." And oh, did she feel _so_ worldly saying that, although she was trembling slightly

"You sure?" he asked, and she just nodded, smiling, Truth is, she couldn't bear the thought of him leaving her side, right now, not even for ten second to go fetch a condom. _Thank god_ she was on the pill.

As Miles slid inside her, Lola was overtaken by way too many feelings, things she didn't even know one could feel. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as she had thought it would, or maybe it was just that the way Miles kept looking at her all the way through made her lose sensitivity. But she was feeling _all sorts_ of other things, so it couldn't be that. She felt closer to him that she had ever felt to anyone, him a literal part of her now, inside her own body. Lola held on to him tight, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, feeling him breathing and panting with each motion, and all the while she tried real hard to contain her emotions and avoid tearing up like an idiot, because _that_ would have been the lamest of lame things.

…

 _After_ , as she stood underneath the hot jet of water in his shower, Lola found herself thinking that - despite it all - she couldn't see anything bad in what had just happened. Sure, it was far from ideal, and she was very aware that many people would frown in judgement at the thought of her sleeping with someone whose boyfriend was in a coma at that very moment - or someone who had a boyfriend, for that matter. The whole thing she had with Miles was messy, and neither of them probably understood it entirely. But it felt good, god, it felt so good! Something that feels this good can't be entirely bad… right?

She was still thinking about all this as she walked back into the room, wrapped in the fluffy towel he had given her to use. Miles smiled quietly at her as she sat next to him on his bed, and immediately took one of her hands in his, softly rubbing it on the back with his thumb.

"Is this weird?" he asked, and Lola almost smirked in response.

"A little," she conceded.

He came in closer, so close his lips were almost touching her earlobe.

"But… also good, I hope?" he whispered.

Lola's face twisted into a smile at his hopeful tone. "Yes. definitely, definitely good!"

Miles instantly relaxed at her reassuring words. "Great," he said, circling an arm around her waist. "Because… I haven't felt this good in a really long time, Lo," he confessed - and her heart made a little cartwheel in her chest, at that.

"Neither have I," she answered, honest.

She wondered if Miles would ever know what this meant, to her. Never would have Lola imagined to lose her virginity to him, or in these circumstances, just a few meters away from where her best friend slept. But now that it had happened, she was really glad it had been with him, imperfect as the situation was. She felt absolutely safe with Miles, in a way she never had with anyone else. And she trusted him, completely. At the end of the day, this was the most important thing, wasn't it?

Miles came in closer, starting to kiss her neck once more. She closed her eyes, a content smile on her face, and soon his hands were finding their way underneath the damp towel she was wrapped in, attracted to her body like a magnet.

"Wow, Lola," he sighed, "You are so beautiful…"

Lola opened her eyes at that, a sharp breath parting her lips. Miles was looking right at her, his face literally beaming. He lied down next to her, softly caressing her hips, hands rubbing circles on her heated skin. His head was resting next to hers, and she could feel his chest moving up and down along the rhythm of his breathing. She settled in at his side, surrounded by the quiet calm of his room, and as his fingers traced lazy patterns on her body she finally understood why everyone always raved about after-sex cuddles. And she closed her eyes, taking in the feeling.

Time seemed to lose any meaning around them; it could have been a few minutes or a few hours later when Lola felt her body shiver, and suddenly remembered she wasn't wearing any clothes. She disentangled herself from Miles, looking around in search of her pyjamas, but Miles quickly circled an arm around her waist, pulling her back close to him on the bed.

"Don't go!" he jokingly pleaded with puppy-dog eyes.

"I need to get my pyjamas back!" she laughed, trying to muffle the sound.

"No, you don't," he murmured, burying his face in her neck and wrapping his arms tight around her naked body - the towel discarded at their feet and long forgotten.

"Come on, I really need to put on something, I'm cold!" she whispered, fake-pleadingly.

Miles moved around to pick up something from his chair. "Here," he said, handing her a white t-shirt, "Now will you stop whining and give me a cuddle instead?"

Lola would have loved to have a quick comeback ready, but she literally couldn't - her heart almost exploding in her chest. _Get a grip,_ she mentally scolded herself, _it's just a t-shirt, gee!_ So she just nodded, quietly, while she slipped on the damned thing, secretly gushing on the inside and feeling like the silliest little girl to ever grace the Earth for it.

She took a deep breath before turning back to Miles. He was sprawled on the bed, arms open waiting for her, a soft smile on his face. She smiled back at him, because it was impossible not to, and she curled up at his side. It was comfortable, and soft, and warm. He smelled like manly shampoo and freshly washed skin.

Maybe in the morning she'd tell him, she thought. Maybe she'd tell him that she didn't care he was with someone else, she didn't care if people would judge them and consider them dirty, or wrong: _this_ was everything she could've ever wanted for her first time, and more, and she could never, ever regret it. It didn't matter what people though, because people didn't know them, they didn't _know._ While Lola knew what Miles had done for her; she knew the way he'd looked at her, and listened to her, and made her feel important, and needed, when she was feeling so lost. And Lola had tried her best to do the same for him. People are always so quick to judge, but what did they know, really, about what it feels like? To spend months by somebody's bed without knowing if you'd ever see them again? If you'd ever have them back? Miles deserved to focus on himself, for once, to try and do whatever he needed to feel happy again, to keep on living. And Lola would be honoured to think that she'd been this, for him: someone who's on your side through a hard time; someone who sees you for who you are, and reminds you that you matter, and your feelings are valued, and – above all – that it's _okay._

But that will be in the morning. For now, she would have gladly lied down next to him under the covers, wrapped in his t-shirt that looked so comically big on her, and was the softest thing she'd ever slept in, and smelled like him. She'd lie as close to him as humanly possible, and she'd let him wrap her in his arms, and rest his head on hers, his rhythmic breathing caressing her with its warm touch, in and out, in and out. And she'd fall asleep, like that. Happy.


End file.
